SHILOH HOLLOWAY

Your name is Kier Emerys. The overnight watcher of the Bethesda Cemetery. This morning, you wake up from your encounter with The Oracle, and you watch the sun paint the sky once again. Sitting next to the grave you love, not for the body buried underneath, but for the brilliant shine of the stone, carved into the shape of a spade, and how the sunrise glistens off of it. It’s not like you to fall asleep on shift like this, is it? Today, you feel controlled in a foreign way, as opposed to the familiar feeling of someone trying to pull your strings. That’s just how you are.The Oracle now plucks at your strings. Or at least they try to. You do find yourself feeling compelled to heed their warnings. Maybe that’s the nosiness in you talking; you love being in everyone’s business.As you gather yourself to leave the cemetery, you do notice the letter the Oracle said they would be leaving with you. You find it right on top of that grave you love, neatly folded, in an old looking envelope.

“My dearest, Agent,The world might be new to you, yes? I understand that you have chosen your vessel, but has your vessel chosen you? Struggling to find yourself in a body already well acquainted and bruised by circumstance? I know the bigger picture. This vessel you've inhabited knows more than you, and perhaps you will come to conflict over it. But let me give you a leverage. Sometimes, a little bit of exposition comes in handy. After all, you're the one in control now, right? That funny word we love and hate, control! You can't be floundering around like you’ve never been here before, it simply will not do.Let’s talk formally and without smoke and mirrors for a moment: your job is to encounter the people of Witch City and learn all you can from them. Your main subject of interest is an emerging cult, known for working in the dark, using the forest as ritual sites, and traveling by catacombs. You must know what the people of Witch City know, and try your best to differentiate their biases from their truths. Of course, with personage and life comes the tricky matter of feelings and fears, but I trust that your own intuition shall serve you to sort the facts from fiction.The disappearances are worth noting. Over the course of the summer, now heading into autumn, many people have been reported missing in the city, the number steadily climbing, approaching thirty over five months. We are not a town known for people moving out or in for that matter, so these subtractions are noticeable and upsetting. I can't confirm whether all of these are related to this cult activity, but there must be a tie, right? They coincide with each other during these times, after all. It may be worth mentioning or asking about in your travels. You may meet someone closer to it than you want to.Now, let's talk about why this cult is such a go-getter. Witch City is governed by its tradition, which you should familiarize yourself with. Over half of Witch City is Pagan. The dominating religion will smack you in the face more than the cult probably will. The Coven Revolving, the judges and the juries and the executioners of this town. The devoted Renovacist ways of the Coven will come up at nearly every turn, so it’s best you know what you’re getting into. The main point of Renovacism comes down to death: we revolve. Reincarnation is the ultimate goal, to come back as another creation, and take your second chance at life. Otherwise, your spirit will be bound to the earth. So to treat the earth and its inhabitants as sacred, potentially even ancient iterations of what once was, and care for all things… All of this, just to amount to eternal life. Revolve and revolve and revolve. Not my thing, but we know this about me already.And what is religion without Gods? Dissiri, Karsia, Halycon, and Amasius. King, Queen, Knight, and Page. You’ll hear the names. They are… not big fans of me. Maybe it’s best I leave that information to you to find out. Gods. There's a whole holy book about it, Witch City has a fascinating collection at its library. But yes. The Holy Court. Four of them. Really riveting stuff.Now, do all Gods need angels? No, but people love a good right hand man. Witch City’s regulation has been conflated with its congregation in the form of The Tarot Court. These bozos, if I can say that, are the closest thing this place gets to a leader: four quasi-prophets each serving a Deity as some sort of mouthpiece. They're so mysterious that even I do not know much about them, but I'm more than sure you’ll find yourself tuned into the conspiracy grapevine that leads back to them somehow. The Tarot Court is lucky that the city’s crime rates are exceptionally low…Now, have I said too much? I'm sure you’ll find your way, but I’d hate to see someone as precious as you get lost in it all. Your job is to fill in the gaps, the missing links of knowledge that I cannot gather myself, being bound here alone. I may as well share what I do know to give you an upper hand. But not too much information, of course! You are still a seeker worthy of the hunt. I know this now.As you meet the people of Witch City, I will also help guide you to other sources of information that may help you. The Witch City news, the radio station, even newer inventions such as the internet will be beneficial. 2020 is such a revolutionary year, it appears!You will do good. I believe in that, truly.And, once again, I need you to find out everything you can about the one they call The Visionary.All the best, and may you be blessed,The Oracle”

You sign your initials on the employee in and out roster after the early morning has grown and settled in. You find yourself with no desire to go home. You have a new job to do. You love details, after all.Bethesda Cemetery sits in a quieter part of the city, hugged by the Witch City Primeval forest that cuts off the city's circulation from the rest of the world. It is in company with some odd roads, some more hidden than others, and other small statues and monuments. All of this rests in the shadows of the greater heart of Witch City, adorned with shops, venues, and tall temples in the name of Witch City’s faithful, The Coven Revolving. You may think to go right to the source of Witch City’s disciples to look for answers of what resists it, but you feel refinement and clarity rests in these smaller corners. The epicenter of the city must be muddy with whispers, and Coven priests must be notoriously biased. Truth must come from the regular citizen, not of any authority or status, and that type lives and breathes here, on the sides and not in the center. Instead of walking into the steady heartbeat of the city, you take to a little road you know, overgrown with twisty branches and lush shrubs still thriving despite no one taking care of them. You take note of the street sign, caressed by vines. Dogma Grove Road.Most people not acquainted with Witch City might think of you standing alone and staring down the street as creepy, but you are known around here as a bit of a watcher of sorts. Despite the recent rumblings of panic about cults and confusion, Witch City does have quite a loud mouth, so no one can blame you for being a bit of an eavesdropper. Maybe it's a bad reputation, but it's yours, and you're not one to care about the opinion of others on you.

Staring down the street, you notice the only other person who seems to be awake by this hour. Three buildings down, sitting on the stoop of an apartment complex that looks like it could use a brush up. She is drowning in her hoodie, her eyes just barely poking out underneath her scruffy fringe, taking frequent drags from a cigarette. She doesn't seem to see you at first, enraptured by the nicotine and watching some bug in the grass. You move closer. You’ve seen her before. Somewhere.Once you get within her peripheral vision, you see her head jerk slightly before she freezes up. Maybe she recognizes you. Or maybe you’re a blaring sight on the street at this early hour. She haphazardly crushes her cigarette against the cement of the step and stands up quickly, brushing herself off as you approach.

????: Oh shit, sorry about the smoke, dude. I was just about to head inside anyways.

????: It’s just a gorgeous morning and the nicotine mellows me out enough to enjoy it, you know? I know it's bad for me. I know.

She laughs to herself a bit and you nod.

????: You’re… Kier… right? You work at that cemetery up there, don't you?

She points to the side of the street you entered from.

????: I should go there more. I don't have anyone buried there, though, but it's really cool over there. You do a good job with the upkeep and stuff.

????: Right. It’s Shiloh. Sorry.

You feel as if you knew this already.

She fumbles with the hem of her hoodie.

SHILOH: I guess so. What do you need?

Let’s not come out of the gate swinging.

> “I'm doing investigative work for the Witch City tribune. I was wondering..."

SHILOH: Didn't know you were taking up a second job.

SHILOH: Hm. Shit, I’ve heard a tiny bit about it, but it's not my thing. I know some friends that skated by it. Dunno much about it myself. I just make my music and try to get by, you know? I keep to myself. Might be good advice for you too, Kier.

The backhanded comment is not lost on you.

SHILOH: I hear it's no joke, that cult shit.

You feel as though she is staring you down through her hair fringe, but you can't quite tell. She shuffles her shoes against the pavement. You just stare at her.

SHILOH: I know the Coven Revolving is like, scared shitless about it. None of those priests want to admit it. People don’t like being vulnerable like that, especially dudes with authority. But The Coven Revolving has the staying power, right? They built Witch City, our whole culture has been built on Renovacism, the Book of Rebirth and all that. I don't think it's gonna wipe anything off the map, but I would still just leave them alone, just in case there is some kind of plan underneath it all.

Shiloh seems to flinch a bit.

SHILOH: Not personally.

She groans.

SHILOH: There's a friend of mine that had a run in with one of them once, if that matters at all. She said there was some guy who claimed to be some hot shot for them that was asking her about it, he had some weird title like The Balladeer or something. Saying something about the afterlife and paradise. Some bullshit like that. You know? You know.

SHILOH: I guess, if you're looking to keep yourself safe.

She notices how sharp she sounded for a second there.

SHILOH: But yeah. Afterlife paradise bullshit, that’s all I got out of it.

SHILOH: Yeah, I don't buy that shit. I don't… believe in any of those higher powers. Not in the Coven. Not in… whatever that cult is selling, I guess it's an afterlife. But it's all bullshit in my book. Maybe I'm damned for it, but at least it's on my own accord. People have power, that’s what makes this whole thing freaky. You don’t need a God to hurt people, but so many people hurt in the name of one.

SHILOH: I think the cathedrals are sick, but that's kinda where that ends. Look, I know I just said Witch City wouldn't exist without it, but hey, I guess I'm an atheist walking on the grounds of the devoted. The Coven has never sheltered me, personally. Good for you if it does, but Witch City, I think, can and should be more than its congregations.

You feel as if The Oracle would like her.

SHILOH: I guess I do feel a little lost in some ways, but I don't think it's anything that The Coven could truly help me with. Yeah, I could meet a friend or two, but I find that in music. All the things the Coven offers me I can find somewhere else. Friends, love, comfort, advice, poetry, even rivalries and vices and flaws. It’s intrinsic not because of higher power, but because of being alive.

SHILOH: I wouldn't take you for an atheist, Kier, especially working in Bethesda.

SHILOH: Fair. I just… don't find myself caring about reincarnation or my ghost after I die. It comes for us all, no matter what we believe. Why is where we go when we die what connects us instead of what we do when we live? The Coven and this cult are both trying to cater to the same ideal, of death not being the end. But maybe it is the end. And that could be something that's okay. But this drive to find out what's true and what isn't when we go is making the city feel like it's eating itself. I guess some people are sheltered by a new alternative, but I’ve only watched it tear people apart, quietly but sturdily. Is Witch City only brought together by the divine?

She steps back and forth, pacing around herself.

SHILOH: Coven or cult, this need to manipulate each other with spirituality, damning each other, forcing scriptures. This divide, all in the name of a God that will never hear us, no matter what name it's called. Aren't we all supposed to be united by our strangeness, and not by our prayers? We only seem to be kind when we’re like-minded, and there's been an “us versus them” mess in the wake of that.

> "It sounds like...

Shiloh visibly recoils. But she masks it with a small, smug laugh.

SHILOH: Fuck that. I'm just some nobody on the west side of town that thinks a little differently. I don't want to be a cog in the machine, not like they’d give me the time of day to share my thoughts on it anyways. What was that old saying? “No masters and no kings and no Gods?” I think I read it somewhere. I offer nothing viable to either party here. “No Gods” being most of my politics makes my rhetoric to them null and void.

She sits down on the sidewalk and motions you to sit down with her.

SHILOH: I just want to be free, yeah? Through music, through community, through resistance, I find freedom. We all have things that empower us. Belief empowers so many, for better or worse. For me, no chains to bind me and my ghost makes me feel free. Like what empowers you, Kier?

The question catches you off guard.

SHILOH: That’s why you came here, yeah? You want answers on this cult stuff. Clarity. You can only get from the people. Not the Tarot Court, not the priests, not the devout, and not the deluded. Just regular people. The real heart of Witch City.

She gives you a smirk.

SHILOH: You know, Kier. Lots of people say you're a weird one, but I respect the fuck out of that. City was built of strangeness. It’s a shame to see us losing sight of that.

SHILOH: … Sorry for getting carried away here. You’re still an investigator here. To answer your first question, “what do I know about the cult?” I know the cult is new and maybe it's scary and weird but it's because it's so secretive, because it moves underneath us, and we fear what we don't understand and all that crap. But at the end of the day, I do know that it's the exact same song and dance as The Coven Revolving: a pointless system seeking the answer to a question it will never know the answer to, to justify its attempts to wrangle people into arms that might not really care for them.

Shiloh takes some sharp breaths and then gets back to her feet, waiting for you to follow.

SHILOH: Nobody ever really asks me how I feel about this shit so I guess I just feel it without expressing it often. It's why I make music. But I guess I sorta ramble when I don't have a guitar to reel me in. But when I just have my thoughts out in the open, I guess it just. Comes out. Sorry I can’t offer more.

SHILOH: No problem.

You go to walk past her, making sure to not bump her as you pass. When you get a couple steps behind her, you hear her heels turning against the concrete to face you.

SHILOH: Hey, Kier.

You turn to look at her and her face has gone blank. She mumbles something, nonsensical, under her breath as she finds her words.

SHILOH: I… I think I know some people that might help you.

She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a tiny notepad with a pen, with scribbles and scrawlings all over the cover. She frantically writes down on a page, rips it, and hands it to you. Reading it, it says, “ROMAN MARLOWE. SPELLBOUND MAGIC SHOP. PENTACLE DISTRICT.”

SHILOH: He’s a former friend of a friend. He got in with a bad crowd, I think. But he’ll talk.

She takes a step back. Her mouth opens again, forming another sentence, but she doesn't make a noise. She just nods, before she ends up whispering, with a quiver:

SHILOH: I’ll see you around.

You start walking toward the other end of the street, leaving her standing at the end of her walkway. You don't turn back around to look at her, but you can feel her eyes on the back of your head. Maybe, like you, Shiloh has taken to being a careful watcher of the world around her, even painstakingly so. You have a feeling she knows more than she's willing to tell you, but prying further will do you no good.After all, this is going to be a long day.And there are more people to see.

Shiloh shrugs.

SHILOH: You know, it's funny you mention it. I did try to speak my mind once, when I was younger. I was 11, maybe? Damn, almost 15 years ago at this point. My step mom brought me to a gathering at the Temple of Dissiri. It was a Saturday night and all I could think of was the promise we were ordering pizza when we got home. The Temple of Dissiri is gorgeous, and I remember having a big crush on a girl that always sat a few rows ahead of us. I remember the priest, I think it was High Priest Kasprak, he said something like, “Dissiri is the reason you breathe. He has constructed every organ we are blessed with, making our bodies in His image. Blood with the spark of the divine, with lungs and a brain and a beating heart, all in perfect harmony. The miracle that is our existence, for He is the master of personage and life, so says the holy Book of Rebirth. He has made a perfect vessel in which to house our spirits.”

SHILOH: I remember it so well because the way he spoke was so impassioned, but I just couldn't find it in me to know this to be true. It felt like a play. Like a stage performance for some made up myth, but instead of being with real people in the audience, I was part of the story. A collective vision shared. I didn't want to be constructed in the image of something I didn't believe in. Why can't I just build myself, take part in the act of creation, but lend myself to no one? It felt like a sense of autonomy was being taken from me, that young and that impressionable. Did I have to be cut from the cloth of a fairytale? Other kids my age just nodded their heads and enjoyed having some holy spark in them. Didn't question further. That's fine, of course. But I didn't want to be holy. I just wanted to be normal. I guess “normal” is a rarity around here, and I guess I didn't turn out normal after all. But that's all I wanted. No divine spark, no holy vessel. Just Shiloh, who really liked rock music and dinosaurs and sharks and playing video games.

SHILOH: That night, when we got that pizza, I said something offhand at the dinner table about how I wasn't made from Dissiri’s image, but I was made from the image of… Damn, what did I call it? I was made from Titanspawn, some edgy ass God I made up myself. Big wings and red streaks in the hair and chains around the ankles and stuff. And that I was gonna make my own pantheons with chosen ones and demons and a world for it all to live in. A make-pretend thing. Because that’s what it all felt like to me. And I thought my ideas were cooler.

SHILOH: But my step mom didn't like this very much. The next day, instead of letting me see my friends, she forced me to sit in our living room, with a circle of crystals around me, and made me read passages from The Book of Rebirth aloud. It felt like hours. She burned some incense and the whole house reeked like one of those witchcraft stores over in the Pentacle District. That afternoon, we went to another gathering at The Temple of Dissiri. And she never took her eye off me. Made me sing, but I didn't know the words. Hissed at me when she caught me looking anywhere but at the High Priest. Made me hold hands with strangers. Forced me to believe I was some holy vessel when I knew I wasn't. How could I refute something so ingrained in me? So dehumanizing, to be so different in the heart of counterculture, that even the freaks think you're a freak.

Shiloh shakes her head a bit, as if to let all of these memories shed off of her. She takes a deep breath.

SHILOH: You ever have something like that? Doesn't have to be religion, but like, any belief being the be-all and end-all. Just watching someone get consumed by something like that, where it changes them. And trying to get others to follow. You ever see something like that?

SHILOH: That’s how cults emerge in the first place. All it takes is one mouth to spew some bullshit. Make it convincing or pretty or powerful enough, and suddenly you’ve got acolytes. Don’t tell anybody I’m saying this about the Coven, though I'm sure the catacombs cult has the same tactics. One idea is placed, and a couple people latch on, that’s all it takes. It’s like…

She pauses.

SHILOH: Yeah. Brainwashing. Watching someone slip like that, it's not pretty.

SHILOH: You probably see it a lot, just in different ways. The damage of grief and all that.

She shakes her head and clears her throat.

SHILOH: Sorry. Didn't mean to get carried away. Nobody ever really asks me how I feel about this shit so I guess I just feel it without expressing it often. It's why I make music. But I guess I sorta ramble when I don't have a guitar to reel me in. But when I just have my thoughts out in the open, I guess it just. Comes out.
Probably not super useful for your thing, though.

SHILOH: Thanks for letting me tell it. Maybe don't use all that for your newspaper thing though. I'm sure my step-mom would throw a fit, heh.

SHILOH: Though, I bet I have some friends that might be able to help. Or maybe not friends, but like…. friends of friends, acquaintances. My friends might be a little too biased.

She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a tiny notepad with a pen, with scribbles and scrawlings all over the cover. She writes down something on a page, rips it out, and hands it to you. Reading it, it says, “ROMAN MARLOWE. SPELLBOUND MAGIC SHOP. PENTACLE DISTRICT.”

SHILOH: He’s…. a little eccentric. But he’ll talk. Maybe a lot. Probably more worth it to talk to him about all this than me.

She nods, steps back and throws her hands into her pockets, along with her notepad.

SHILOH: Hey, thanks for talking to me. I guess I get caught up in my head about this shit. I know it was for a bigger project but you’re a good listener, Kier. I guess I should talk to you more…

She trails off, looking at you for a long moment. You can feel her eyes, unwavering.

SHILOH: You know, I do have to get going actually. I have an event at the cafe today. Gotta be there to sound check soon. See you around, Kier.

You watch as she cautiously stammers into her apartment complex before you start heading toward the other end of the street. Maybe she got spooked by your big eyes. Maybe you remind her of someone else.Or maybe, Kier knows something you don't.But anyways, it is only the beginning of a long day.And there are more people to see.

SHILOH: Sorry, dude, you're barking up the wrong tree with this one. Or maybe the right one, depending on your angle. I don't align myself with The Coven Revolving. I’ve only ever met a handful of other atheists in Witch City, so if you're looking for the faithless, it might be few and far between.

SHILOH: I believe in me and my guitar. I believe in a community not withheld by a divine but hollow promise. I believe in people. But I don't believe in any gods. I wish it wasn't so controversial, you know, believing something different in the place that was founded upon the idea of being different, but hey, that's how it is. I've found divinity in stranger’s bedrooms more than I've found it in temples.

SHILOH: It can be. Anything can be. But I like to think I’ve found my niche. Fellow artists and poets and musicians that find their muse in different things. Some of them are quite religious. Some of them aren't. It's nice to see there's at least some kind of place where the difference doesn't divide us. I’m part of this musician group that all do shows over at the cafe, and I have a buddy from there that really worships Karsia, really puts a lot of stake into how she’d wanna be incarnated, and believes Karsia has a great plan for her spirit after she dies. I see that and I'm grateful she is comforted and sheltered in her beliefs. And she sees me unbound from it and knows I am happy in the freedom.

SHILOH: Yeah, everyone has. There’s a lot of assumptions and swift judgments and misinformation. Fearmongering. So I know some people that are scared shitless about it.

SHILOH: I am, but I'm trying to keep a level head about it. It’s new, it’s manipulative, it’s mysterious. But the panic that’s starting might be a little exaggerated.

SHILOH: It’s barely made itself known. And it’s manipulative from the sounds of it, but that’s the problem. “From the sounds of it”, everyone says. We don’t know enough, but of course, that's what freaks people out the most. Uncertainty. They fill in the blanks. Like they're coming for our kids and summoning demons and using black magick and shit. I don't know if any of that is true, how can I? I believe it's dangerous because of it being, well, a cult. But I'd love to know exactly what’s going on from the source, nothing but the truth, but of course that’s a pipe dream.

SHILOH: See, now you're putting words in my mouth. I'm not “hearing them out”. I don't see me finding any more comfort in their perspective when I’ve already developed my own. Just some fucking clarity would do this city a whole lot of good. Get everyone to calm down and just be candid about everything. Religious intentions, the disappearances, whatever the fuck the Tarot Court is doing, just crystal clear about everything. Again, it’s a pipe dream, I know. I don't think this city is even capable of handling something like that.

SHILOH: Bingo. We’d find a way to fuck it up. My point is that this cult is being born out of this city’s nagging need for conformity and daring to go against it. Is this cult going about it in the right way? Fuck no, it's a fucking cult. But it takes, like, thirty seconds to think about why it might exist, and a lot of people are not willing to put in that brief mental work.

She shakes her head, looking up and down the street.

SHILOH: The Coven sucks. The cult sucks. You know what doesn't suck? The few people I’ve found that have their heads on their shoulders and can think critically for more than a minute. They’re out there, if you look for them. But even they’re starting to get spooked now. I guess I can't blame a little fear, though. I get it.

Shiloh pauses.

SHILOH: Yeah. But… It’s whatever.

You can feel her looking right through you, or attempting to, even if you can't see her eyes under her hair.

SHILOH: You know, Kier, no offense or anything, but… you're kinda infamous around here for being the watcher of Bethesda Cemetery and having your nose in everything, so I'm a little shocked you, yourself, don't know more about the cult.

SHILOH: I just always took you for an eavesdropper rather than going out to talk in person, I guess. No offense.

SHILOH: Witch City makes itself to be this giant thing, but I think, at its core, Witch City is so small and tight knit. Blessing and a curse, for sure. You think you know someone because someone else does, you hear one thing so you assume things based on it… I just figured… Since you kinda just hang around the cemetery so much and don't say much… I guess that makes me a hypocrite, huh?

SHILOH: Right. Sorry. Things just aren't what they seem, especially lately.
I really don't have much for you though, about the Coven or the cult or otherwise. But I might be able to give you some folks that do. I'm not friends with him, not anymore, but I used to know this one guy… His name is Roman Marlowe. A kinda recent ex of a buddy of mine. He works up at Spellbound, that little psychic shop in the Pentacle District, does tarot readings and that kind of shit. I guess he’s been going postal. He's always been a little eccentric, but this is… something different. He definitely knows more than he’s letting on, so he might be a better foot in the door than me.

You can tell she furrows her brow under her hair.

SHILOH: Just out of curiosity… What brought you here anyways? Like I’m just another person that lives on this street. I'm an atheist, I’m a musician, I’m just… Shiloh.

SHILOH: Huh. Might be the first I’ve ever been told that and felt it was right. Well, I wish you luck with your… thing. I gotta get going anyways so, I guess I'll be seeing you.

Shiloh turns from you and starts heading into her apartment complex, not taking any time to look back. Something tells you that she may have gotten a little unsettled by you at the end. But that’s okay. A lot of people are.You start walking toward the other end of the street. The Pentacle District is on the other side of town near the water; maybe you’ll catch a bus, or maybe you’ll just walk and take all of the city in. After all, it is only the beginning of a very long day.And there are more people to see.

Shiloh freezes.

SHILOH: Sorry. Anyways, I don’t think I have much else for you. I know some names I can give you to help guide you to people that know more than me, but that's about it.

SHILOH: You ever been to the Spellbound Magic shop in the Pentacle District? The guy that owns the place now, his name is Roman. He’s… well, he’s a little frantic. He’s a friend of a friend. Or, well, I guess they might not be friends anymore. Roman got a little… involved in the cult thing, as far as I know.

SHILOH: Yeah. That falling out is kind of a recent thing. My friend, Parker, him and Roman were buddies for a while. But Roman started talking about that cult. Parker said that Roman wanted to get to heaven, got really obsessed to an alarming degree about it. Was turning his life upside down to get to heaven, whatever that means. Parker was getting real freaked out by him. Tried to help, tried to get Roman a therapist or a reality check or anything. Nothing worked. Completely fell on deaf ears. So he cut contact. I can't be going around to see Roman again, he’ll probably lose his mind, but if you want information on the cult, I'm sure Roman will at least talk. You think you can handle that?

SHILOH: Dedicated to your work, I respect that.

Shiloh shakes her head.

SHILOH: Not really. Once I started hearing the heaven nonsense, I started distancing myself from the situation anyway. I never knew him well, but his personality was big enough to know a bad time from a mile away.

SHILOH: Can only assume that but yeah. Heaven. Afterlife. A place to go. Anything to help the masses sleep at night, I guess.

You feel a tug. Kier separates from you, little by little. It seems they want to ask something, in their own control.You will let them.

KIER: Did he ever mention someone called The Visionary?

Shiloh’s head snaps up at you.But why would she do that? Unless…

SHILOH: The Visionary?

KIER: Unless I should be asking if you've heard of them instead.

SHILOH: No… No, he never did. I'm just… Confused. Where'd you get that name from?

KIER: Came to me in a vision, maybe.

You feel they shouldn't have said this.

Shiloh steps back, scoffing in bewilderment. Her movement gets jittery as she frantically fidgets with the strings of her hoodie.

SHILOH: Fuck me, man, I knew you were playing dumb. Why’d you lie to me like that?

KIER: You misunderstand me.

SHILOH: Listen, Kier. Go talk to Roman, alright? Or whoever the fuck, just not me. I’ve got nothing else for you. I don't know shit, and you’ve clearly got some other agenda that I can't figure out either. I’ve got other shit going on, okay?

KIER: You’ve never heard of The Visionary?

SHILOH: No, I haven’t.

Her voice breaks.

SHILOH: I’ve gotta go, Kier. You should get out of here.

Shiloh quickly turns and briskly walks to her apartment, leaving Kier alone in her apartment's walkway.Kier just stands and watches, like they always do.The air is heavy with the ghost of Shiloh’s voice.You connect back to Kier.A dull weight of guilt spreads in your chest. It should be a bigger feeling, this ache. But it simply sits, a quiet reminder. It might be there more for you than it is for Kier.You start walking up the street, towards the center and heart of Witch City. It would be best to listen to Shiloh’s warnings and advice, especially after the confusion we’ve caused. The Pentacle District will be an excellent choice to seek what this city knows and hides.You feel strange. Shiloh did give you a bit to chew on, but dissatisfaction creeps in. She gave you enough, but your gut is telling you it pales to what she must be withholding. Has the city begun putting its walls up in response to the new religious movements? Has the open book we’ve always been started to close? Has the distrust gone deep enough, driving apart the very people relying on each other? Rationality will tell you that Shiloh is just conditioned this way, to be tight lipped, and she was bound to be cautious of what she says. But the distrust isn't just among the citizens; you can't help but feel that Kier, themself, is keeping things from you as well.After all, you’re taking away a lot of their control. Can you really blame them?You’ve got time to get on the same page.Witch City, always small, begins to feel big, for once.Know what they know.